


Winter

by bastigod



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastigod/pseuds/bastigod
Summary: Miya Atsumu’s favorite season was always Winter.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 1043





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I SEE U TWITTER
> 
> THIS ONE'S FOR YOU.
> 
> Hopefully this will help tide you over.
> 
> [5/4/2020 - Did a few minor edits to this~! Now with 150% more Osasuna and Kansei-ben, which I unfortunately didn't include much of in the first place.]

Miya Atsumu’s favorite season was always Winter.

He and his family lived on the north coast of Kansai in a town called Toyooka. While Kobe, the capital of their prefecture, was warm in the wintertime, the same could not be said of their hometown. Northern winds blew in from Siberia and brought with them a seemingly infinite amount of snow. Thick banks would pile up from storm after storm. The twins would craft tunnels and forts in the snow, and in the process usually managed to dig out the family SUV. The crowning jewel of their fort was always a throne. The noble title of Winter King was determined by a snowball fight to the (ego) death between the two. Once their little sister, Hiromu, was old enough to join them, the twins were permanently usurped by the Winter Queen.

Their father would take the family up to the Kannabe highlands for skiing a few times a season. Provided their grades were good enough, of course. More than a few trips were spent on the slopes with only one Miya brother. Atsumu loved skiing. He loved the frigid air that nipped at his cheeks and he loved the wind that whipped through his bangs as he glided down the slopes.

But all good things must come to an end. He and Osamu retired their skis for good in middle school. Now that they were regulars on their volleyball team, skiing was no longer a risk they were willing to take.

(To this day, Atsumu’s mother still goads him about quitting. The two of them spent more than a few Februarys parked in front of the television, pestering him every time there was a white and red flag next to an Olympian’s name. “That could’ve been you!” 

She finally got her wish in the Games this year, however. As his little sister stood on the podium, proudly displaying her silver medal in women’s singles figure skating, tears streamed down his mother’s face. Once she’d regained her composure, she elbowed Atsumu playfully. “At least one of my babies is a star~!”

Never mind that he was a professional volleyball player.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Winter meant training camps.

During their second year of middle school, the twins were sent to a prestigious camp at an academy in Tokyo. Atsumu was amazed, fascinated by the massive buildings with lights so bright they made the snowflakes twinkle. Toyooka was a city by definition, but you couldn’t compare it to the capital of their prefecture, much less to the capital of Japan.

Atsumu had heard of Itachiyama before.

Their high school team was a near-permanent fixture at Nationals and last year won the whole thing. Somehow, they almost always had a star-studded roster and featured at least one of the most elite high school volleyball players in the country. This year, the team had been dubbed the Orchestra due to their incredible setter. Atsumu had watched Nationals, utterly transfixed by the way the Itachiyama setter turned his spikers into living weapons. After graduation, he was immediately scooped up by the Italian league.

The twins milled outside the Itachiyama athletic facility, waiting for the crowd to settle down before they headed to the dorms. While Osamu pointed out all the cute girls, Atsumu found himself transfixed by something else.

Or rather… someone else.

The boy was tall for his age. He towered over most of the other players and for a second, Atsumu thought he was a high school student. But his face was still soft and boyish, an effect further accentuated by his nervous expression. What drew Atsumu’s gaze the most, however, was the boy’s black curls. He felt his fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to touch them, to place his hand at the nape of his neck and to twirl the curls around his knuckles.

Osamu coughed loudly next to him and Atsumu silently cursed his twin’s ability to seemingly read his mind. Or perhaps, his twin’s ability to see the blush creeping along his cheekbones. _Go talk to him._ A hand met Atsumu’s shoulder as Osamu shoved him right into the black haired boy.

He would get Osamu back for this later.

But for now, he needed to apologize to the stranger.

“I’m so sorry~!” Atsumu over-enunciated as he flashed a megawatt smile. He hoped the cold air outside the Itachiyama Gymnasium was enough to excuse the blush on his face. “My brother pushed me, he’s such an ass!”

The boy was silent and straight faced, his eyes trailing slowly from Atsumu to Osamu behind him. They were such a dark grey they were nearly black. It suited the boy’s dark hair and pale skin almost too well. He accepted the apology with a curt nod and began turning away.

“Hey, wait!” Atsumu half-shouted, putting his hand on the boy’s jacketed arm. “What’s your name?”

The boy flinched at the sudden touch. His dark eyebrows scrunched up and his eyes flashed from anger to bored indifference so fast Atsumu nearly missed it. “Sakusa. Written with the kanji for ‘forever’ and ‘early.’ Kiyoomi. ‘Holy’ and ‘minister.’”

“I’m Miya… written with… um… ‘shrine’... Atsu-”

“That’s nice.” Sakusa cut him off sharply, spinning on his heel to walk away. It was rude, but still Atsumu felt the tips of his ears go hot. 

“That was pathetic!” Osamu laughed from behind. “Ya just had to crush on the coldest boy out there, huh?”

“Oh, shut it, Samu!” Atsumu wondered if it was possible to die from blushing. Partially because his whole body felt incredibly hot, nearly feverish. Partially because dying right here on the spot would be infinitely preferable to listening to Osamu’s hysterical laughter at his own expense.

He never got a chance to talk to Sakusa again that training camp. Though, he’d occasionally see glimpses of those heavenly black curls and the cute boy they were attached to.

  
  


* * *

  
  


He didn’t meet Sakusa again until the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp their second year of high school.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Inarizaki and Itachiyama had played each other several times, but the two never spoke. It’s not like that fact mattered to Atsumu. The brief flash of romantic desire he’d felt years ago was a fleeting middle school crush for a boy who was clearly uninterested in him. Though, he certainly didn’t mind playing against him. Sakusa was even taller, curls longer, and his face had matured. Atsumu was perfectly content admiring the handsome boy from a distance, no feelings attached. 

He had other crushes in high school.

Atsumu recalled thinking Fukurodani’s setter was gorgeous. But almost too gorgeous. Looking at Akaashi was like looking at snow without sunglasses on. He knew that was a crush he could never pursue, because it was hard to miss the way Bokkun looked at his setter like he was the entire universe.

Suna, his own teammate, was cute. Tall, dark haired, tired eyes. ( _Do I have a type?_ ) Conniving smiles and weary glares. He stupidly revealed that crush to his brother one night and got a teasing punch for his efforts. “He’s straight, _aho_!” Osamu flicked him on the forehead. “On the off chance he is into guys, he certainly wouldn’t be into yer stupid ass.” 

(A year and several months later, when a second button was deposited into Suna’s hand by a flustered Osamu beneath the cherry blossoms, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked in Atsumu’s head.)

Atsumu had come to accept that he would have to wait until graduation to actually date. The team didn’t know he was gay, and he certainly wasn’t too keen on having them find out. They all seemed to be good guys, but you never know how someone will react. He didn’t need to give any of them more ammunition to hate him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


‘Handsome boy, no feelings attached’ didn’t last once the attendees of the All-Japan camp got emailed their lodging assignments. Atsumu was horrified to see not only were the players staying at the nearby Itachiyama Academy dorms, but Sakusa Kiyoomi’s name was written next to his.

A few weeks later, Sakusa met him outside the nearest subway station. He was bundled up in a large winter coat and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Atsumu had had to leave Toyooka early to avoid being delayed by the coming blizzard, but it also meant he ended up arriving in Tokyo before everyone else. He was grateful Sakusa was fine with it.

The taller boy led him to campus, then up four flights of stairs, and down a long hallway until they finally reached Sakusa’s dorm room. A metal plaque engraved with his full name was affixed to the door. Atsumu was baffled by how incredibly neat and tidy the inside of his room was. There wasn’t even a single rogue water bottle haphazardly strewn in a dark corner.

On his desk was a gaming PC. Rainbow LEDs lit up the PC tower, the keyboard, the mouse, and even the headset resting on a hook in the wall. He’d never pegged Sakusa as a gamer, though it’s not like he knew much about Sakusa in the first place.

Sakusa must’ve noticed his lingering gaze because he mumbled beneath his surgical mask, “I like playing RPGs and FPS games.” Both of these made perfect sense to Atsumu. RPGs likely satisfied any desire Sakusa had to explore without having to actually interact with the world physically. And he knew lots of athletes played multiplayer FPS games. Things like working as a team, developing tactics, analyzing your mistakes, and improving your mechanical skills all translated to physical sports. “I’ve been playing a lot of CS:GO lately.”

Atsumu set his duffel bag in an empty corner of the dorm. Two futons were laid on the floor, side-by-side beneath the window. There was plenty of room to put the extra futon elsewhere, but Sakusa had picked that spot on purpose. Atsumu clenched his teeth. _Hold it together, idiot._ “It gets cold in here.” Sakusa said, pulling his mask down, “I use both futons and blankets usually.”

“Ah… sorry. I’m sure ya weren’t keen on the idea of sharin’ a room, huh?” Atsumu said, allowing himself to sit down on the gaming chair stationed in front of the desk. 

“No.” Sakusa said, frowning. “But it’s okay.” He pulled off his big winter coat and gently laid it on the floor. Then, he unzipped the hideous green and yellow Itachiyama track jacket he wore underneath and placed it back on its hanger in the closet. Atsumu found it hard not to stare at the muscles that strained Sakusa’s shirt sleeves. He pulled on a big black hoodie, the bottom hem of his shirt lifting as he raised his arms. Atsumu silently prayed to every pantheon that ever existed to stop torturing him like this. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Atsumu nodded. “What’s around?”

“You can’t shoot an arrow without hitting a Yakitori shop.” Sakusa pulled his surgical mask back up and slipped the coat back on. “There’s an Italian place about a half a mile away if you’d rather do that.” Atsumu didn’t miss the way Sakusa’s eye twitched when he said the word Italian. Red sauce was messy, after all.

Atsumu grinned like a fox. “Yakitori sounds great.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The sun had set and a sharp evening chill settled over Tokyo while they ate. Though the boys didn’t really know one another, there was little distance between them. The sleeves of their jackets brushed against each other as they walked, a crinkly windbreaker sound with every swing. 

Atsumu was comfortable in this weather, it was a lot colder in Toyooka when he got on the train that morning. But Sakusa’s red face and even-more-hunched-than-usual posture gave his discomfort away. Atsumu desperately wanted to wrap an arm around the shivering boy’s shoulder and pull him close. Let Sakusa join him in his warmth. But he refrained. 

They returned to the dorm and peeled their outerwear off. Atsumu was used to flinging his clothes onto the floor, but he respectively folded his coat and laid it gently on his duffel bag. Sakusa had returned his own coat and his hoodie to the closet and slipped his shirt off. There was an indented scar on his torso, just above the waistband of his jeans and Atsumu wondered what could’ve caused it. A clear of the throat brought Atsumu back to his senses. “Appendectomy. It’s rude to stare, Miya.”

Atsumu whipped his head around and focused on taking his own clothes off. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

When he figured it was safe to turn back around, Atsumu’s eyes found Sakusa sitting cross-legged on his futon with a 3DS in hand. He’d replaced his jeans with a pair of thick grey sweatpants and a too big tshirt with ‘Panama’ emblazoned across the chest. “Whatcha playin’?”

Sakusa regarded him with an eyebrow lift, the two moles on his forehead rising in tandem. “Animal Crossing,” he mumbled, scratching at his chin. “I have to say goodnight to Goldie.”

“Who’s Goldie?” Atsumu planted himself on the futon next to Sakusa’s. He strained trying to see the screen, but the glare from the angle was too much.

Sakusa sheathed the stylus and handed the 3DS over. On the screen was a cute yellow dog smiling at Sakusa’s character. Flowers appeared above her head as she excitedly greeted him. “I’m allergic to dogs.” He explained. “But I always wanted a Golden Retriever.” Sakusa took the handheld back and resumed playing. “I have other villagers, but she’s my favorite.”

Atsumu wasn’t sure how this seemingly deathly serious boy could be so goddamn adorable.

The two quietly tapped away at their respective devices for the rest of the evening. Sakusa had his eyebrows furrowed, fishing intently, letting out a tiny “Nice” every time he caught a big one. Atsumu carefully angled himself and his phone in just the right way that he could sneak glances at Sakusa and the 3DS screen but didn’t allow Sakusa to see a single word of the embarrassingly long gay slowburn he was reading.

Sakusa fell asleep first, his curls splayed out on his pillow like a crown. The blanket pulled up over his nose rose and fell softly as he breathed. He always looked so weary, so it surprised Atsumu to see how deeply the other boy slept. Atsumu finished the chapter he was on before tucking himself in himself. Feet sticking out the bottom of the blanket, allowing a tiny bit of cool air to sneak under, just the way he liked it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Atsumu woke in the middle of the night disoriented. A streetlight somewhere outside the dorm window cast a faint orange glow that illuminated the room just enough to see where he was. The twinkling rainbow lights from the computer across the room was his first reminder that he was in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s dorm in Tokyo.

The second reminder was the arm wrapped around his torso and the body pressed up against his back. Warm breath fanned his neck and curls tickled his skin.

_Oh my god._ Atsumu settled in to try and fall back asleep, but it was difficult to ignore the boy cuddling up against him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When morning arrived, Sakusa Kiyoomi was bundled up in his own blanket, laying on his own futon.

And Miya Atsumu was utterly confused. _Am I so goddamn gay for this boy that I imagined him cuddlin’ me?_

Or did that actually happen?

But there was no time to dwell on what did and what didn’t happen last night. The two quickly dressed into volleyball clothes, followed by track suits, followed by winter coats. Atsumu lauded himself for not taking a single glance at Sakusa.

They jogged together to the National Training Center, barely sharing a single word.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sakusa and Atsumu quickly found themselves in a routine in their free time.

After training, they would return to Sakusa’s dorm. The taller boy would take a bath, a long and slow one that steamed up the bathroom mirror. When the muffled sound of Sakusa’s music ended and he emerged from the room, Atsumu took a shower. As appealing as a bath sounded, he knew how Sakusa felt about germs. It was bad enough he had to shower in there.

The two would get dressed in warm outerwear and head out into the winter evening. As the week progressed, they both became incredibly over aware of how unprepared Sakusa was for the unusually cold weather sweeping the capital. Sakusa reluctantly borrowed some of Atsumu’s clothes, after washing them several times. By the final night, he was wearing Atsumu’s beanie, scarf, and even his gloves. Atsumu’s hands were a bit larger than Sakusa’s, but he didn’t seem to mind.

They’d go out for dinner. Sakusa paid for one meal, then Atsumu the next. They both swallowed their pride and split the bill at an especially expensive restaurant the fourth night. From then until the end of camp, they went to cheaper places and fought over the bill. One night, Atsumu slyly paid the waitress while he was ‘going to the bathroom.’ Sakusa frowned while Atsumu flashed his megawatt smile.

They would change into pyjamas once back at the dorm. Some nights, Sakusa would turn on his PC and play what Atsumu guessed was CS:GO. He’d watch, fascinated by how good he was at the game. On nights they were exhausted from practice, Sakusa would curl up in his futon playing Animal Crossing. Atsumu didn’t miss the tiny smile that bloomed on the boy’s lips when he heard the telltale chirp of Goldie’s voice. The night before last, Sakusa pulled his monitor down to the floor and turned on a movie. They scooted one of the futons over and shared a blanket. The warm press of Sakusa’s knee into Atsumu’s thigh was unexpected, but certainly welcome.

Every night, Atsumu would wake up in the middle of the night to Sakusa cuddled up against him. Soft breaths and wild curls against his neck. But then they’d wake up in the morning, both comfortably bundled up in their own futon.

After a week of this, Atsumu still wasn’t sure if Sakusa knew what he was doing or if it just happened in his sleep.

All he knew was that he was hopelessly crushing on the black haired boy again.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“TSSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM TSUUUM!” The obnoxious voice of one Bokuto Koutarou knocked him out of his daydreaming. He blinked and his eyes focused on the wide amber ones of his teammate. “You’ve been unresponsive…” Bokuto took a split-second to ponder his usage of that word, “this whole time! Even Meimei tried to get your attention!”

Atsumu groaned, feeling embarrassed that he didn’t respond to his captain. “Meian-san is gonna kill me.”

“Get up!” Bokuto grinned. “Meimei wanted you to help out with the college tryouts!”

“Ugh, why meeeee?” Atsumu whined. There was something about being around Bokuto that made his mental age regress about 8 years and it was utterly exhausting.

A slap on his shoulder fully jerked Atsumu out of his haze. “Don’tcha wanna set to the new spikers?” Even Bokuto’s questions felt more like exclamations. “Meimei said it’s either that or run laps with the rest of us.” The spiker nodded his head excitedly.

“Agh. Fine.” Atsumu rubbed his temples. He enjoyed running, but he wasn’t keen on the punishment Meian-san would dole out for ignoring him earlier. He imagined himself doing suicides and burpees until the sun came up tomorrow morning.  
  


* * *

  
  


“Aw, hell.” Atsumu muttered to himself. In front of him were three college seniors, all wing spikers. The Black Jackals had tryouts mid-season for students coming through the university pipeline. Normal tryouts, like the ones Atsumu himself had participated in a few years back, occurred in the summer.

The first of the spikers was a young man with light brown hair and was noticeably shorter than Atsumu. His light green eyes were bright and eager. The second had a shaved head and a wild look in his eyes that reminded Atsumu of Karasuno’s Tanaka. The third was a man with familiar dark eyes, a surgical mask, and a perfectly tousled mane of black curls.

Sakusa.

Fucking.

Kiyoomi.

He hadn’t seen Sakusa in quite a long time, not since high school. The coaches of the All-Japan camp brought together all the graduating third years to celebrate their successes and discuss their futures. Sakusa was headed straight to college while Atsumu had opted to try out for a number of V.League teams. The black haired spiked had frowned and scolded him for skipping out on his education. It was such a Sakusa thing to say.

“Ah, I… am happy to see you three here.” Atsumu said, scratching the back of his head. He looked each spiker in the eye as he spoke, purposefully not dwelling on one of them for too long. “Name’s Miya Atsumu. Call me Atsumu. I’ll be yer setter for tryouts. If ya have any sp’ific preferences for tosses, yer free to lemme know.”

The brown haired player excitedly told Atsumu the exact distance and angle from the net he liked his tosses. That was easy to remember, his name, however, escapes Atsumu to this day. The shaved head spiker just nodded gruffly and stepped back. Sakusa hummed, which unnerved Atsumu.

“Perhaps if I’d known you were on the Black Jackals,” Sakusa said, blankly, “I wouldn’t have come try out.”

“M’name’s on the Wikipedia page.” Atsumu put his hand on his hip. “Ya didn’t need to research too hard.”

He couldn’t see Sakusa’s mouth beneath the mask, but he did catch the way the top of his cheeks rose. He was smiling.

“Ah.” Atsumu chuckled. “I see ya got jokes now, Sakkun. Ya get a degree in Actin’ Like a Normal Human Bein’?”  
  


“Nah.” Sakusa lowered the mask to reveal his dimpled grin. “Computer Science.”  
  


* * *

  
  


“It’s SO cold!” Hinata Shouyou shouted, exhaling a puff of fog. That was to be expected. He’d been living in Brazil the past two years. Even in the winter, it was warm and humid.

It was Bokuto, walking next to the shorty, shivering into his massive jacket that made Atsumu’s eyes roll. 

“Ya damn city boy.” Atsumu sighed. “Ya wouldn’t survive 10 minutes in my hometown.” He was wearing a fall weather jacket, just enough to protect himself from the wind. The beanie on his head was more for fashion than to actually keep him warm. He was gloveless, which had become his norm.

Much like in high school, Sakusa seemingly didn’t own a pair of gloves despite how frigid his fingers got each winter. So, Atsumu reluctantly lent him his. He wanted to be mad, because he felt the cold bite at his exposed fingers, but Sakusa always looked so cute bundled up.

Plus, it felt nice. Being trusted. 

“What about Sakoomi?” Bokuto said, prodding Atsumu’s shoulder with his large gloved finger. “Make fun of him too!”

“Yer just such an easy target, Bokkun.” The owl-haired spiker pouted and stomped off, pulling Hinata along with him. He always was one for the theatrics. He’d forget Atsumu bullied him in a matter of minutes.

The sunshine idiots storming off ahead left him alone with Sakusa. The black haired man hummed a tune Atsumu recognized from an animated movie, but couldn’t recall which, as the two walked together.

Atsumu glanced at his teammate and was surprised to see the action mimicked. The two met gazes briefly before quickly turning back. “Ya got somethin’ on yer mind, Omi-kun?” Atsumu said, taking another look at Sakusa.

He pulled his surgical mask down so he could enunciate his words clearly. “You look cold, Miya.”

“Pfft.” Atsumu chuckled, a fake laugh, “I’m fine.”

“Here.” Sakusa said quietly, reaching his hand out towards Atsumu.

Atsumu stared at the gloved hand. “Ya need ‘em more than I do.”

Sakusa sighed, loud enough that Atsumu was convinced the whole city could hear it. He stopped in his tracks and pulled his mask back up. “You shldhldmhnd.” He mumbled.

“Eh?” Atsumu stopped walking himself, spinning on his heel to look inquisitively at his teammate. “Care to repeat that one, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa looked away, the fingers on his still-outstretched hand twitching. “Hold my hand. Idiot.” If Atsumu had been cold, he certainly wasn’t now. His cheeks burned as he looked at this teammate incredulously.

“Ah, er, a…” Atsumu began to stutter, cut off by the sound of Sakusa snapping the fingers of his other hand, knocking him back into this world.

He took the gloved hand, their palms flush to one another but not their fingers. Sakusa pulled both hands into the warm pocket of his jacket.

“Calm down, Miya.” Sakusa mumbled. His hand shifted to twine their fingers together. Soft wool brushed against Atsumu’s skin as Sakusa rubbed gentle circles with his thumb. Out of the corner of his eye, Atsumu could see red creeping up the spiker’s cheeks. He smiled.

The walk to the subway station was longer than usual. They took their time, slowly strolling, sharing warmth, and barely saying a word.

Atsumu thought about how being alone around Sakusa changed him. Around others, he tried to fill any silence to avoid any awkwardness, that lingering social anxiety and desire for attention. But there was something about Sakusa’s presence that made him want to quietly take in the world around him. It was good for him, he decided.

Sakusa was good for him.

“So…” The subway was quickly approaching. “D’ya wanna get dinner?”

“We all ate before we left training. I’m not hungry.” Sakusa squeezed his hand and with it, his heart itself.

Atsumu laughed. “I don’t mean now, idiot… I mean… like…” He covered his face with his free hand to try and hide the blush. It was an exercise in futility. They both sported impressively uncharacteristically pink cheeks. “A date?”

“Oh.” Sakusa whispered. He looked back at Atsumu, pulling his surgical mask down in the process. “I suppose.”

His tone was dry, but the corners of his mouth gave him away.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading~!
> 
> my twitter is [@andraste_](https://twitter.com/andraste_/status/1257520191598182401) if you wanna come jam


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